


I'm So Set on the Rest of My Life Being a Part of You

by love_stella



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Asexual Character, But You're Really More Than Bros Anyways, Cheesy Nicknames, Idiots in Love, M/M, Marry Your Bro Because You Love Them So Much, nosey friends
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-01
Updated: 2020-01-01
Packaged: 2021-02-26 02:42:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,858
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21944368
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/love_stella/pseuds/love_stella
Summary: Antoine can’t stop the thoughts racing through his head, things likethis is ridiculous, we’re 16, we can’t get married, that’s not even legal is it? The only suit I own is from the Draft and I don’t even think it still fits. Felix is probably too busy to be the best man during the summer, it’d be a summer wedding, wouldn’t it?orTwo best bros get married becausewhy not?
Relationships: Maxime Comtois/Antoine Morand
Comments: 5
Kudos: 23
Collections: Hockey Holidays 2019





	I'm So Set on the Rest of My Life Being a Part of You

**Author's Note:**

  * For [aimerai](https://archiveofourown.org/users/aimerai/gifts).

> IF YOU OR ANYONE YOU KNOW IS MENTIONED IN THIS FIC DO US BOTH A FAVOR AND CLOSE THE TAB RIGHT NOW AND SAVE US SO MUCH EMBARRASSMENT
> 
> Aimee!!  
I hope you this is everything you hoped for for these two, it couldn't be more on brand for them. 
> 
> Thanks to A and G for looking this over when it was but a baby fic, and the hugest of thanks to A for reading this monster and fixing things for me.
> 
> A couple warnings just in case:  
-Antoine has some less-than positive feelings about his sexuality in the beginning of the fic that Max helps him deal with.  
-Mentions of the bullying that Max went through after WJC 2019 but nothing too graphic I don't think.

“Let’s get married,” Max says as they’re walking back to their billet houses after the Grenadier’s last home game of the season.

“What?” Antoine sputters, not sure if he heard correctly. 

“You, me, married,” Max repeats like it makes perfect sense. 

“What?” Antoine repeats, grabbing Max’s hand to make him look at him. 

“If we get married we’ll always be together,” Max says. 

“If we get married, I still have to go to Bathurst and you have to go to Victoriaville,” Antoine says. 

“No, I know that,” Max says. “You’re not listening.”

“You’re not making any sense,” Antoine says. 

“Who else is gonna take care of you like I do?” Max pleads. “Who else is gonna let you fall asleep on top of them while you watch the latest episode of The Office or give you their tomatoes?” 

“No one’s ever gonna replace you,” Antoine says. “If that’s what you’re worried about, it’s not gonna happen. You’re my best friend and I love you more than hockey.”

“Then let’s do it,” Max says. 

“If you’re just saying this because you’re scared of everything changing, you don’t have to be,” Antoine says.

“I’m not,” Max says. “I’ve been thinking about this for a while now.” 

“Wait what?” Antoine asks, stunned. 

“At least the past few months,” Max says. “Since before we left for the Canada Games probably. I’ve been in love with you for as long as I can remember.”

“Max I’m sorry,” Antoine says. 

“You didn’t know,” Max says. 

“But I love you too,” Antoine says, pulling Max closer until they’re touching everywhere. 

“Yeah?” Max whispers. 

“Yeah,” Antoine says. 

“I’m being serious though,” Max says. “If we love each other we should get married.” 

Antoine can’t stop the thoughts racing through his head, things like _ this is ridiculous _ , _ we’re 16, we can’t get married _ , _ that’s not even legal is it? The only suit I own is from the Draft and I don’t even think it still fits. Felix is probably too busy to be the best man during the summer, it’d be a summer wedding, wouldn’t it? _

“We can figure all that stuff out,” Max pleads, and _ shit _ Antoine definitely didn’t mean to say that outloud. 

It might still sound crazy, but the more Antoine thinks about it, the more he likes the idea of being married to his best friend, but not just any best friend — Felix snores and hogs the blankets so he’d make a terrible husband — it’s _ Max _, and Antoine would do anything to keep that smile on his face. 

“Ok, yes,” Antoine says before he can talk himself out of it. 

“Yeah?” Max says, suddenly sounding less confident.

“Yeah, let’s do it,” Antoine says, barely getting a chance to catch his breath before Max literally sweeps him off his feet and peppers his face with kisses.

“I love you so fucking much,” Max whispers into Antoine’s neck.

“I love you too, now put me down,” Antoine laughs. 

“Kiss me first?” Max pouts, and it's not like antoine could ever refuse him -and Max knows that. 

Antoine can’t think of anything else to say, but the way that Max holds his hand a little tighter as they walk says more than words could ever say. 

“We can’t play hockey wearing rings,” Antoine says as they walk up the steps to Max’s billet house. 

“I made you something, just come up,” Max says. 

Antoine’s been to Max’s billet house more times than he can count, but this time it feels different, like he has a purpose for being here. 

“You’re back early,” Max’s billet dad says. “Oh, hi Antoine.”

“Hello,” Antoine says. 

“You guys staying in instead of going out with the boys?” His billet dad asks. 

“Yeah,” they both say. 

“Dinner’s in the fridge if you boys get hungry.”

“Thanks,” Antoine says before following Max up the stairs. 

Antoine’s never knocked before coming into Max’s room — sometimes he’s regretted not knocking when Max wasn’t expecting him — but for some reason barging in on Max before he’s ready for him is the last thing that Antoine wants to do, even if the door is wide open.

“Are you just going to stand there all day?” Max asks once he’s done rifling through one of his drawers. 

“Are you gonna show me what’s behind your back?” Antoine counters, coming into the room and sitting on Max’s bed. 

Max hesitates a moment before joining him, and Antoine’s seen Max nervous before but never like this. 

“Give me your hand,” Max whispers, looking everywhere except Antoine’s face. 

Antoine would give Max anything right now, so he places his hand in Max’s and before he knows it Max is tying something around his wrist and looking at Antoine with what he knows must be reverence, a look he’s seen before but never directed at himself. 

“Max, this is beautiful,” Antoine says, almost afraid to touch the delicate navy, gold, and cobalt strings of the bracelet. 

“I threw away so many before this,” Max confesses. “It had to be perfect for you.”

“It is,” Antoine promises, ghosting his fingertips along the bracelet. “You really made this for me?”

“Of course,” Max says. “Like I said, I’ve been thinking about proposing, or whatever it is I did, for a while now.”

“You need something for yourself,” Antoine says. “I can try making you a bracelet too if you want.”

Antoine tries not to have flashbacks to the time Max showed him how to make friendship bracelets and it ended up in Antoine being covered in string and Max on the floor laughing his ass off, but judging from Max’s smirk Max knows exactly what he’s thinking.

“As much as I’d like that, I’ve already taken care of it,” Max laughs, pulling something out from behind him and handing it to Antoine. 

“It’s the same as mine,” Antoine whispers. 

“Almost,” Max says. “The colors are reversed, so when you put them next to each other they fit together.”

“Like a puzzle,” Antoine says. 

“Yeah,” Max says. “We’re like each other’s missing piece.” 

“I love you,” Antoine says like a prayer against Max’s lips after tying the bracelet around Max’s wrist. 

“We’re married,” Max says, and it might not be legal but it’s more than enough for Antoine. They’ve got the rest of their lives to figure out how to tell their parents, but tonight nothing matters but the two of them holding each other, exchanging kisses until they fall asleep. 

\---

As much as Antoine would love to never tell their parents that they’re technically-but-not-legally married, he lets Max talk him into inviting everyone to the Comtois house for dinner where they can spill the news, or if things go Antoine’s way, Max can tell their parents while he hides in the bathroom until it’s safe for him to come out. 

Antoine knows his parents adore Max --- they’ve told him countless times over the years that they’re thrilled he has a friend like Max --- and he’s fairly confident that Max’s parents feel the same about him, but there’s a huge difference between “Max is my best friend” and “Max and I are _ married _’ and he’s not sure how either set of parents will react to what this dinner is actually about. 

Max corners Antoine as soon as they arrive, muttering something to his parents in rapid-fire French that Antoine’s too distracted to catch, and pulls him up the stairs to his bedroom before wrapping his arms around him.

“It’s gonna be alright,” Max promises before Antoine can open his mouth. 

“But what if they hate me?” Antoine whispers.

“They won’t hate you,” Max says, squeezing tighter. “My parents think us being friends is the best thing that’s ever happened to me. You’ve heard maman: ‘The boy’s a good influence Stephane, leave them be_ . _’” 

“What if they think I’m taking you away from them?” Antoine’s not sure why he’s having a hard time breathing right now, but Max has one hand on his own chest and one hand on Antoine’s so Antoine can feel his heartbeat and just the gesture is enough to remind him why they’re doing this: they’re perfect for each other. 

“Maman would say that hockey did that a long time ago,” Max says. “And you make me happier than hockey.”

“I love you,” Antoine whispers, bringing Max’s hand to his lips so he can press a kiss to his knuckles. 

“You ready?” Max says after a few minutes. 

“No,” Antoine laughs. “But we should probably get down there before someone comes up.”

Antoine’s almost positive that Max’s hand on his back is the only thing pushing him to the kitchen where everyone’s talking and laughing, that is, until someone sees them lingering at the entryway and in a flash the sound feels like it’s been sucked out of the room. 

“There you boys are,” Antoine’s mom Claudine says. “Dinner’s almost ready.”

“Have a seat boys,” Stephane says.

“Is there anything we can do to help?” Antoine says, partially not wanting to feel useless and partially hoping he can screw something up to delay the conversation they have to have, but Max is already dragging him over to the table so his question gets ignored. 

“It’ll be fine,” Max promises, quickly rubbing his thumb over Antoine’s knuckles. 

Before Antoine knows it, everyone’s sitting at the table and more food than he knows what to do with is being passed around, he’s not even sure what’s on his plate but he knows he’ll eat every last bite to distract himself. 

“Well what did we do to deserve a family dinner?” Max’s mom jokes. Antoine hopes his face isn’t turning red, but from the look his brother’s giving him it’s not working.

“Yeah, it’s not like you two eloped and this is your way of telling us,” he laughs. 

Antoine’s never been more sorry about drinking water since now it’s coming out of his nose and Max is doing his best to smack his lungs out of him while everyone else asks if he’s alright. _ I’ve never been less alright in my life, thanks. This isn’t how I thought I’d die but oh well, _ he thinks to himself. 

“Boys?” Claudine asks once Antoine’s stopped choking. 

“Maman,” Antoine starts, before Max saves the day and cuts him off. 

“I asked Antoine to marry me Maman,” Max starts, rolling up his sleeve to show everyone his bracelet. “And he said yes.” 

“Is this true?” Claudine asks, staring so deeply into Antoine’s eyes he can feel her gaze burning his brain. 

“It is Maman,” he whispers. 

“I-” Claudine starts before her father Sylvain interrupts. 

“Are you boys sure?” Sylvain asks.

“We’ve talked about it Papa,” Antoine says, at the same time Max says “We’re sure.”

“Then this is fantastic,” Sylvain says, getting up and giving Antoine a hug. 

“It is?” Stephane asks. 

“It is,” Sylvain says. “I trust my grandson to know his heart, and if this is what his heart wants then it can’t be wrong.” 

“Thank you papa,” Antoine whispers, looking at Max and seeing nothing but love in his eyes. 

“You did say so yourself,” Stephane says, remembering what his wife always says, “The boy’s good for him, leave them be.” 

“That doesn’t mean marriage at 16,” Max’s mother starts, “But you boys aren’t babies anymore, if this makes you happy then I’m always going to support you.” 

“Wait, does this mean I finally get a cool baby brother?” Antoine’s brother asks. 

“Shut up,” Antoine laughs, throwing his napkin at him. 

“Boys please,” Claudine admonishes, and considering the fact that Antoine doesn’t want to get on anyone’s bad side right now he puts his hands on his lap and ignores his brother sticking his tongue out at him. 

“We are happy, Maman,” Antoine promises, putting his hand on Max’s where its resting on the table. 

“This is the right thing for us,” Max says, taking Antoine’s hand. 

“Then we’ll support you in any way we can,” Stephane promises while everyone else at the table nods.

“Enough talking let me hug my new son,” Max’s mom says before pulling Antoine out of his chair and knocking the wind out of him with the force of her hug. 

“We’ve got a wedding to plan,” Claudine announces, looking at her other son as if asking _ why haven’t you given me a wedding to plan yet? _

“Well, they’re 16 it can’t be a big wedding, can it?” Stephane asks. 

“We don’t need a big wedding Papa,” Max says. “Just everyone in this room-”

“-and Felix,” Antoine says, because there’s no way he’s getting married without his best friend being there. 

“Hey, I’ve gotta be your best man,” his brother whines.

“You can be Max’s best man, you like him more anyways,” Antoine says.

“It’s true,” Max laughs. 

“When did you boys have planned for the wedding?” Sylvain asks over the sound of everyone else talking at once. 

“Sometime this summer,” Antoine says.

“We were thinking July since no one has plans yet,” Max continues. “I don’t really wanna wait that long.”

“If you really want a simple thing, we could just do it in the backyard,” Stephane says. 

“The reception could be at Tim’s,” Claudine jokes, but honestly, that’s good enough for Antoine. 

“We can cook,” Sylvain admonishes. “The boys deserve something more special than sprinkled TimBits.”

“Papa,” Antoine whines. 

“Hush, my grandsons deserve the world,” he says. 

“Then it’s settled, we’ll have the wedding next week?” Claudine asks. “That gives us enough time to get to the courthouse and get everything ready.” 

“Sounds good, Maman,” Antoine says, letting Max pull him onto his lap for the rest of the night. 

The actual wedding is a complete blur, one minute his mom is tying his tie and Felix is laughing at how Antoine can’t stop fixing his hair, and the next he’s being asked if he takes Max to be his lawfully wedding husband. 

“Yeah, uh, I mean, yes,” Antoine stammers. “I do.”

They don’t really have vows, which is a good thing because Antoine would probably be making a fool of himself trying to read them and blubbering like an idiot while Max read his own vows, and since Max already said his “I do” part, they get to do what they’ve been waiting for what feels like ages to do: kiss as husbands. 

It’s a little wetter than Antoine is used to thanks to all the tears running down their cheeks, but it’s the best kiss they’ve shared. Everyone else is crying too, even Felix ---who Antoine knows placed a bet with Max that he wouldn’t cry or he’d have to wash his gear the first time they played each other in the Q--- and it looks like their mothers are absolute wrecks, but honestly Antoine’s too happy to care. 

\---

It’s not until they’ve been ushered into Antoine’s car and told to have fun that Antoine remembers what’s supposed to happen after a wedding: the wedding _ night _. 

They’ve never really talked about sex, mostly just content to cuddle and kiss whenever they get the chance, but Antoine knows that he’s honestly not interested in the idea at all. He can’t quite put his finger on why but as soon as he thinks about what it’d be like to actually touch dicks with Max, or anyone for that matter, it’s like his dick shrivels up and dies. Jerking off is a chore just like taking out the trash and he’d honestly rather not do it at all but sometimes he has to hide in the bathroom and get it over with as quickly as possible, and he’d rather Max didn’t know about any of it. 

It’s not like Max has pushed for anything more ---Antoine knows Max would never do anything to make him uncomfortable--- but he can’t help but feel ashamed when he’s woken up early to the sounds of Max getting off in the bathroom with his name on his lips, like he’s letting Max down by not offering _ more _. 

Antoine’s thought about letting Max touch him but it just ends with Antoine curled up in the bathtub trying not to vomit, so realistically, it’s not something that’s going to actually happen, no matter how much he wishes he wasn’t so broken. 

The entire drive to the hotel, Antoine’s trying to come up with excuse after excuse in his head about why they should just go to Felix’s house and spend the night playing video games for one of the last times instead of going to the hotel, but nothing sounds good enough so he keeps his mouth shut. Besides, Max looks so fucking happy next to him it makes his insides melt and he doesn’t want to be the reason that look goes away, at least not yet. Antoine can’t help but feel guilty that he’s not as happy as Max ---he’s happy, probably the happiest he’s ever been, don’t get him wrong--- but he knows that everything’s going to go to shit as soon as Max learns the truth, that he married the wrong guy because they’re stupid teenagers and Antoine’s useless. 

Max, the nerd that he is, pulls Antoine out of the car and swoops him up bridal style as soon as they’re parked, and Antoine hopes that Max thinks that his shiver is from being worried about being dropped and nothing more. 

“Don’t fucking drop me,” Antoine shakes out, making Max pretend to lose his balance before righting himself and promising him that he’d never let him go. 

Max tries to open the door with Antoine in his arms, which mostly just means Antoine hits his leg and forehead on the door in the struggle before he insists on taking the key from his husband since Max doesn’t want to put him down. 

“Well, what do we do now?” Max asks once they get the door open. 

“For starters, you can put me down,” Antoine says.

“But this is fun,” Max whines, spinning Antoine around while Antoine clings to him. 

Eventually Max’s arms must get tired because he gently puts Antoine on the ground before pressing him up against the door and looking at him with so much love that Antoine doesn’t know what he did to deserve it so he does the only thing he can do: he presses his lips to Max’s and relishes the feel of Max’s smile against his mouth. 

Antoine’s content to let Max kiss him breathless and let Max move his move his mouth up and down Antoine’s throat, tilting his head to give better access because he really doesn’t know what else to do. It doesn’t feel bad, necessarily, but it’s not really doing anything for him either, but Max likes it and he figures that if Max leaves a few marks it’ll put off any questions that Antoine doesn’t want to answer from their friends or families. Max starts raking his hands up Antoine’s shirt and Antoine’s hands start to clam up from where they’re holding Max’s hips but _ it’s Max, it’s fine _, he keeps repeating to himself. 

It’s _ not _ fine when Max’s hands start wandering south and he starts grinding against Antoine’s stomach, Antoine knows it’s not really Max’s fault that his body’s reacting naturally while Antoine’s is broken, and as soon as Max’s hands venture under the waistband of Antoine’s boxers his instincts kick in and he pushes Max off him. 

“Hu-” Max starts, but Antoine’s already locked himself in the bathroom in a daze. 

Antoine _ can’t fucking breathe _ and he almost trips on the cheap bathroom rug on his way to the bathtub and hits his head on the shower curtain rod but he can’t think of anything except how Max knows the truth now, that Antoine pushed his husband away on their wedding night when they’re supposed to be fucking like everyone thinks they are. 

Normally, Antoine calls his brother when he gets like this, but his phone is in his coat pocket on the floor somewhere and that just makes it even harder to breathe, he can’t even panic right and Max probably already left so he won’t have to deal with Antoine’s meltdown. He can’t hear anything over the sound of blood pumping to his ears and he certainly can’t see anything with the tears streaming down his face, but it’s better that Max can’t see him right now, surely that would just make him ask for a divorce right away. 

“Mon amoureux, are you alright?” which, if Antoine didn’t know any better he’d think was coming from Max pressed up against the door, but Max isn’t here because Antoine isn’t worth his time. “Can I come in? Please?”

Antoine opens his mouth to answer not-Max but all that comes out is another sob which makes not-Max shake the handle of the door harder. 

“Whenever you’re ready, I’ll be here,” not-Max says through the door, Antoine really needs to stop pretending that Max is still here, it’s not going to help him calm down at all. 

He’s not sure how long he stays like that, but his breathing starts settling enough for him to focus on getting out of the bathtub and it’s not until he opens the door and it hits something that he realizes that not-Max was Max all along. 

“You’re here,” Antoine whispers. “I thought you left.”

“Never,” Max says. 

“I’m sorry,” Antoine says, and just like that, the tears start again. 

“What are you sorry about, mon amoureux?” Max asks, trying not to react to the way that Antoine flinches from his hand when he tries to touch him. 

“I pushed you away,” Antoine cries, knowing that there’s no way to avoid the conversation anymore. 

“It’s alright,” Max promises, looking almost as broken as Antoine feels. “Do you wanna talk about it?”

“Talk about what?” Antoine cries. “That I’m fucked up?”

“How are you fucked up?” Max asks. “If you weren’t in the mood it’s alright. There’s always another time.” 

“There won’t ever be another time,” Antoine stammers. “I don’t get like you do, I’ve tried and I just… can’t.”

“Ok,” Max says. “That’s fine too.”

“No it’s not,” Antoine says. 

“I love you,” Max promises. “That’s never going to change, no matter what.”

“You’ll get bored of me,” Antoine says, frustrated that Max doesn’t understand. 

“I could never get bored of you, we’re gonna spend the rest of our lives together,” Max says. 

“You don’t know that,” Antoine says, sitting on the edge of the bed and grabbing the duvet like a lifeline. 

“I do,” Max says. “Who knew I’d be saying that to you more than once today, eh?”

“Shut up,” Antoine says, choking out a laugh. 

“Can I sit?” Max asks, and Antoine doesn’t want to be treated like an injured animal so he nods and lets Max sit next to him. 

It feels like an eternity before Max gets up the courage to touch Antoine this time, just a gentle brush of their arms, but Antoine thinks that _ that _ feels worse than anything because he knows that Max feels awful and that’s not what Antoine wanted at all, so he scoots a little closer and puts his head on Max’s shoulder. That’s all the approval Max needs before putting his arm around Antoine and rubbing circles into his wrist and as bad as Antoine feels, he feels _ loved _, like Max might still want him. 

“Wanna cuddle and watch the Jays game?” Max asks, kissing the top of Antoine’s head. 

“Ok,” Antoine whispers, meeting Max’s eyes for the first time since his breakdown. 

“We’re gonna be fine,” Max promises. “As long as you’re still ok being the big spoon.”

“Always,” Antoine says, letting Max guide him to the appropriate position. 

“I love you,” Max whispers once they’ve settled. “You’re my husband, there’s no take-backs to that.”

\---

Antoine knew that being away from Max during the season would be hard, but he didn’t know exactly how hard it would be. The shitty hotel wifi and spotty cell reception make it difficult to see or talk to each other on the road, and Victoriaville and Bathurst only play each other twice a season and that’s not nearly enough time for them to enjoy each other’s presences. 

Summer’s really the only time they get to spend time alone, and Antoine’s intent on not letting his husband out of his sight for at least the first week of it. He’s expecting a little resistance from their families, since the only time Antoine’s seen his parents was when they made it out to Bathurst and he’s heard how much Max wishes his parents could make the drive to Victoriaville more often, but Max shows up on his doorstep as soon as Victoriaville is eliminated from the playoffs with a sheepish smile and a bag from his parents. 

“I missed you,” Max says, hugging Antoine before pulling him into his own house. 

“Hi,” Antoine says, trying to act offended at Max just making himself at home and failing, judging from the way that Max smirks and ruffles his hair. 

“You missed me too,” Max laughs. 

“I did,” Antoine agrees, giving in and wrapping his arms around Max as tightly as he can. 

“Mooooom,” Antoine hears his brother shout from behind them. “Max is here and they’re being gross.” 

“Don’t you have to go to work?” Max asks. “I’m sure someone as important as you needs to be driving around waiting for an emergency.” 

“That’s literally not how it works, but alright,” He says. “I’d rather be driving around than watching this, so I’m leaving.”

“Be safe tonight,” Claudine calls as he shuts the door. “Hello Maxime.” 

“Hi,” Max tells her, letting go of Antoine and accepting her hug. 

“How long will you be staying?” She asks. 

“I’m...really not sure?” Max says, looking at Antoine sheepishly. 

“Stay as long as you want if it means I keep my son here,” Claudine laughs. 

“Maman,” Antoine whines as if the thought of Max staying with them for the whole summer isn’t the best thing he’s ever heard. 

“Why don’t you help Max bring his stuff up and I’ll get you boys something to eat?” Claudine suggests. 

“Uh,” Max starts, and the pinker his cheeks get the more Antoine thinks that Max didn’t actually _ bring _ any bags. 

“Or you boys can go shopping tomorrow?” Claudine murmurs. 

“That might be a good idea,” Max says sheepishly. 

“My clothes might be too small,” Antoine says, taking Max’s hand. “But you can borrow something for tonight.”

“Thanks,” Max says once they’re upstairs. 

“I can’t believe you didn’t pack a bag,” Antoine laughs. “I’m not going anywhere, you didn’t have to rush.”

“But I missed you,” Max whines. 

“I missed you too,” Antoine promises, digging through his drawers in case Max ever left any clothes. 

“Pay attention to me,” Max whines when Antoine opens yet another drawer trying to find something for Max to wear. “I can sleep naked if I have to.”

“No you _ cannot _,” Antoine says. 

“You love _ this _,” Max says, gesturing up and down his body.

“It’s alright,” Antoine says as dryly as he can, but seriously, he’d rather raid his brother’s closet than have his husband sleep naked in his bed, and if that doesn’t sum Antoine up in a nutshell nothing will. 

“Can’t we just cuddle for now?” Max begs, poking Antoine in the small of his back until Antoine has no choice but to turn around and stop him. 

“Fine,” Antoine says, trying to look put out but considering the fact that Max ignores it and pulls him onto the bed tells him it’s not working. 

“This is ok right?” Max asks, wrapping his arms around Antoine’s middle and shoving a leg between his thighs. 

“Of course,” Antoine says. 

“I just don’t wanna make you uncomfortable,” Max whispers into Antoine’s collarbone. 

“Why would this make me uncomfortable?” Antoine asks, not bothering to keep the confusion out of his voice. 

“I dunno,” Max mutters. 

“We’ve always cuddled like this,” Antoine says. 

“I know,” Max says. “It’s just been a while.” 

“Forever,” Antoine agrees. 

“You just…” Max starts. 

“Is this about the sex thing?” Antoine’s not sure why that comes out of his mouth, but it makes more sense than anything else. 

“Kind of?” Max says. 

“I don’t wanna fuck you,” Antoine says. “But that doesn’t mean I don’t wanna be close to you.” 

“I-” Max starts. 

“I’m not a baby deer,” Antoine says. “I’m not going to run away because you hold my hand.”

“I know that, I just,” Max says. “I want you to be happy.”

“Cuddling makes me happy,” Antoine promises, trying not to get upset that Max thinks he’s so fragile. 

“You’ll tell me if you’re not ok with it?” Max asks. 

“I promise,” Antoine says, kissing Max’s eyebrow since it’s right there. 

“More kisses?” Max asks, and it’s a miracle he’s not whining. 

“I can do that,” Antoine agrees, letting Max flip them so Max is on top of him. “If the next time you open your mouth isn’t to kiss me I’ll kick you off the bed,” he warns, and Max seems happy enough to oblige. 

They break apart before Antoine has to tell Max to get off of him, Max rolling to his side and patting at the space behind him and smiling over his shoulder so that Antoine has no choice but to press himself to his husband’s back. 

“I love you,” Max yawns. 

“I love you too,” Antoine says into Max’s hair. 

“I can’t wait to spend the whole summer with you,” Max whispers, and _ that’s _ the best thing Antoine’s heard all day. 

\---

Before Antoine realizes it, he’s in a hotel room with Max getting ready for the next step in their careers: the NHL draft.

“You’re not nervous are you?” Antoine asks.

“Not really,” Max answers. “Are you?”

“What if no one wants me?” Antoine whispers, barely finishing his sentence before Max pulls him into a hug. 

“Anyone would be lucky to have you,” Max promises. 

“Even you?” Antoine jokes, unable to resist the line even though his hands are starting to shake at the thought of not getting drafted. 

“No one’s luckier than me,” Max laughs. “But I mean it, with the way you play everyone’s gonna be trying to snatch you up.”

“I hope so,” Antoine says, pulling away from Max so he can finish tying his tie. 

“Let me help you with that before you strangle yourself,” Max laughs, and Antoine knows he should know how to tie a tie by now but he’s almost always had Max around to help him whenever he needed to wear one so what’s the point. The fact that Max gets close enough for Antoine to count his eyelashes and watch the way his nose starts to turn pink is just a bonus, really, and if Max lingers a little too long Antoine’s not going to say anything about it. 

They’re too caught up in each other to hear the beep of the key card or the door opening so Antoine can’t help but jump when Max’s mom announces that “it’s almost time to go boys,” followed by the sound of Antoine’s mom’s camera going off. 

“Maman, please,” Antoine whines.

“You know I’d be lying if I said I was sorry,” she laughs. 

“You can take all the pictures you want later,” his dad says. “But we have to get going,” 

“Yes Papa,” Antoine says, giving Max one last peck on the cheek before following his parents out the door. 

“I’ll see you very soon,” Max promises before doing the same. 

The cab ride to the United Center is a blur, the next thing Antoine knows he’s being ushered to a row of seats and sitting between his parents, trying not to fidget or look like he’s looking for Max. 

“You’ll see him soon, relax,” his mom says, putting a hand on top of his. 

“You’re already married you don’t need to be on the lookout for Max,” his dad laughs. 

“Oh hush,” his mom laughs, reaching around Antoine and gently smacking his side. “You were just as bad as he was when we first got married.” 

Antoine’s not sure how long they wait for the second round of the draft to start, but before he knows it Bob Murray is announcing Anaheim’s 50th overall pick: Max. 

Antoine doesn’t know how to react, his body is trying to go to Max, his heart is bursting, his stomach is turning, and his brain is overloading. His mom decides for him, grabbing his hand and squeezing before putting her arm around him so he can’t really move. 

“Congrats mon gosse,” his mom whispers as his dad musses up his hair. 

“You’ll be next,” his dad promises, while Antoine’s just wondering when Anaheim’s next pick is, not that there’s much of a chance that they’ll take him too. 

Antoine blinks and Bob Murray is announcing the 60th overall pick, but it’s not until his parents are standing up and pulling him to his feet that he realizes what happened: Anaheim picked _ him _. 

“I’m so proud of you mon gosse,” his mom cries. 

His dad doesn’t say anything, just gives him a hug and wipes at his eyes before nudging him towards the aisle. Antoine’s not sure how he makes it down the stairs with his dignity intact, his eyes are leaking and it’s all he can do not to start sobbing when he takes off his suit jacket to put on _ his _ new jersey. 

He tries to ignore the cameras on him while he shakes too many hands and tells everyone at Anaheim’s table how grateful he is and how they won’t regret their decision before someone’s dragging him backstage for photos and interviews. 

Right when they get backstage Antoine’s wrapped up in the tightest hug he’s ever gotten, but he doesn’t have to open his eyes to know it’s Max holding him tight. 

“Aren’t you supposed to be busy?” is the first thing out of Antoine’s mouth. 

“I stopped them when I heard they picked you,” Max whispers into his hair. 

“I can’t believe it,” Antoine whispers. 

“I can,” Max says. “You deserve this.”

“_ We _ deserve this,” Antoine corrects. 

As much as Antoine would like to pretend that he and Max are the only ones in the room, the pointed coughing from behind them makes him let go of his husband and give them his most convincing apologetic smile. 

“I should let you go,” Max says. “Don’t wanna keep you from all the attention you love so much.”

“Shut up,” Antoine laughs, knowing how much he sucks at English interviews, the words never sounding comfortable on his tongue. 

The rest of the night is a complete blur, he takes the requisite “holding a hockey stick” photos and answers enough interview questions that his voice is starting to get hoarse, but judging from the approving smiles of his handler, he’s doing everything right.

He doesn’t know why he’s surprised that Anaheim’s beat writer keeps asking about Max, assuming that outside of the Q no one cares enough about their friendship, but it seems like most of what the reporter is asking is focused on their dynamic even though they haven’t actually played together for years. 

“Him and I just complete each other really well,” Antoine hears himself say, trying not to think about Max having to answer the same questions a few feet away from him.

“Antoine, Maxime, could I get both of you over here?” Someone calls from in front of one of the photo curtains. 

It takes everything in him to not reach out for Max’s hand as they walk over, but of course Max can’t resist tapping his pinky to Antoine’s and giving him the smile that Antoine knows is just for him before letting the handlers pose them for photos. 

Antoine thinks he couldn’t be more relieved when he’s told that he can see his parents and head back to the hotel until he sees that Max is following close behind him, trying to look as casual as he can and failing. Max makes sure they congratulate Zach, Arnaud, and Drake when they run into them, but Antoine just wants to find their parents and go out to dinner so he can be alone with his husband. 

He gets his wish soon enough when Max’s parents mutter something about “leaving the new teammates to bond” while Antoine’s brother snickers behind their mom’s back. 

“You two have a good night, don’t stay up too late, we’ve got flights to catch in the morning,” Antoine’s mom says, pressing a kiss to his forehead before heading everyone down the hall to a room Antoine didn’t even know they booked. 

“Well I guess we’re on our own mon caneton,” Max says before opening the door to the room that’s become just for them.

“Duckling?” Antoine asks. “How long have you been holding onto that one?”

“Since I found out they called your name,” Max answers. “You don’t like it?”

“It’s perfect,” Antoine says, desperate to erase the look of disappointment on Max’s face.

“I’ve gotta get us matching duck onesies now,” Max mutters to himself under his breath as if Antoine’s not close enough to hear it.

“Please don’t,” Antoine laughs. “You’re quacky enough already.”

“We’d be adorable,” Max whines, and Antoine knows they would be and tries to put that agreement into a kiss that Max happily returns. 

Antoine loses himself in Max’s lips until he pulls away with a yawn, as if his body has decided that the day’s gone on for long enough and it’s time for them to sleep. 

“Tired, mon caneton?” Max smiles. “I’m sure I can find a way to keep you up longer.”

“That’s very sweet,” Antoine says. “But I don’t think our neighbors would appreciate you arguing with the Jay’s broadcast.”

“I don’t argue,” Max pouts, letting Antoine pull him to his bed. 

“Whatever you say,” Antoine says, moving Max around until he’s satisfied that his position will make for optimum cuddles before folding himself around him and falling asleep to the sound of Max’s breathing.

\---

The rosters for Team Canada’s World Juniors selection camp come out while Antoine’s asleep and he tries not to be disappointed when he doesn’t see his name on it; he knew it would be a longshot since they didn’t even invite him to the Summer Showcase this year but it still hurts. 

Antoine’s almost tempted to ignore the texts, most of them from Max, but he knows ignoring his husband will do more harm than good so he decides to bite the bullet and call him. 

“You should be here,” Max says as soon as he picks up. “I’ll tell them I won’t play if they don’t change their minds.”

“I didn’t even get an invite to the summer camp,” Antoine says.

“That doesn’t mean anything,” Max says. “Hockey Canada can invite whoever it wants to selection camp if they’re good enough. Which you are.” 

“Clearly they don’t think so,” Antoine says, trying to keep the hurt out of his voice. “It’s fine.”

“You deserve to be here,” Max insists. “I deserve to have you here.”

“That’s not how it works,” Antoine says even though he wishes it was that simple.

“I miss you,” Max whines like that’s enough of a reason for Hockey Canada to add a player to its roster. 

“I miss you too,” Antoine says. “You did just fine without me last year, maybe I’m a good luck charm that way.”

“You not playing for our country is _ not _ good luck,” Max whines.

“You’ll be fine,” Antoine repeats. “You’ll probably get the C anyways.”

“I don’t want it if you’re not here,” Max insists. 

“You’re sweet,” Antoine laughs. “But you deserve it.”

Someone must have barged into Max’s room judging from the noise and Max telling someone to fuck off, but when Max gets back on the phone he sounds apologetic when he tells Antoine “I really do have to go, love you.”

“We’ll talk soon,” Antoine promises before hanging up because he knows Max will find any excuse not to hang up if he doesn’t do it himself. 

Hockey Canada names Max captain just like Antoine said they would and Antoine couldn’t be more proud of his husband than when he gets the cheesy snaps of Max in his jersey, showing off the “C” and pulling stupidly cute faces into the camera. 

Antoine watches the tournament as much as he can and talks to Max whenever they have enough time alone and before he knows it it’s the quarter-finals and Canada’s going into overtime against Finland. 

Antoine watches Max line up for the penalty shot, putting all his heart into hoping that he does what he always does and puts it in the back of the net and trying not to collapse when he misses. He almost forgets Sammy and Bo are in the room with him until they wrap their arms around him and he lets himself cry for Max so that he can pretend to be strong when he gets the chance to talk to him. 

Antoine thinks he does a good job when Max calls him, sounding devastated and drunker than Antoine’s ever heard him, letting Max cry into the phone and whispering whatever comes to mind to try to comfort his husband from the other side of the country until they both fall asleep. 

Antoine logs onto Twitter as soon as he wakes up and clicks where Max’s name is trending in Quebec, figuring it’s trending just because he’s the captain of Canada and not because of him personally. It takes about half a tweet before he realizes he made a mistake, the entire internet is blaming his husband for Canada getting eliminated. Antoine watched the game, his heart in his chest when Max took the penalty shot and missed, and listened to Max cry himself to sleep, unable to say anything but “it’s not your fault mon coeur” which is the truth, it’s not Max’s fault Canada wasn’t good enough this year. 

Antoine can’t handle more strangers on the internet calling Max horrible names and saying that Max deserves to die because he let his country down but he can’t stop scrolling so he throws his phone across the room instead. 

“What’s up?” Bo asks when he finally wakes up in the bed next to Antoine’s. 

“Fuck everyone,” Antoine says. 

“Max?” Bo whispers, since he watched the same game Antoine and the rest of the country did, and Antoine can’t do anything but nod and let Bo wrap his arms around him. “I’m sorry mon chum.”

Antoine knows he has to get his phone, but he’s gonna do something he’ll regret if he looks at the screen again so he stares at where it hit the ground until Bo asks if he wants him to help.

“Delete the app,” Antoine says murderously. 

“If you want,” Bo says. “Not like you use it anyways.”

“Delete it,” Antoine confirms. 

Bo does what he’s told and hands the phone back, but not before letting Antoine know he’s got a bunch of missed calls and texts from boys they know from the Q that Antoine’s half-tempted to tell Bo to delete too even though they wouldn’t ever say horrible things about Max.

Antoine sends Max a string of heart emojis and lets him know he’ll be around all day since Halifax has the day off, even though all he wants to do is Skype his husband _ now _. 

It takes most of the afternoon, but Max finally calls --- just calls --- and it’s all Antoine can do not to cry in relief that he can finally talk to him. 

Max’s voice sounds raw when he finally speaks, and Antoine’s heart breaks for the second time since last night. 

“Mon caneton,” is all Max says.

“Max,” Antoine says which is for the best since he wants to word vomit everything he’s feeling right now and there’s no way that would go well. 

“I’m sorry,” Max says, which is ridiculous because there’s nothing he should be sorry for except _ maybe _the fact that he’s so far away from Antoine right now, even though that’s not his fault either. 

“You have nothing to be sorry for,” Antoine promises. 

“Everyone hates me,” Max whispers, and Antoine wants to murder the entire internet because Max sounds _ destroyed _. 

“Everyone can fall off Percé Rock,” Antoine says murderously. 

“I should,” Max whispers, quietly enough that Antoine almost misses it.

“Don’t say that,” Antoine almost shouts. 

“I fucked up,” Max says. 

“You missed a shot,” Antoine says. “We all do that all the time. It’s. Not. Your. Fault.”

“I shouldn’t have missed,” Max says. “A fucking penalty shot. During overtime. I shouldn’t have missed.” 

“It’s not your fault,” Antoine repeats, wanting more than anything for Max to see his face so he could see how much Antoine means what he’s saying. “I wish I could make you believe me.” 

“I keep getting calls from people asking me to comment on everything,” Max says as he starts to cry again.

“Ignore them,” Antoine says. “Hockey Canada has to be handling this.”

“They said the same thing,” Max says. 

“I’ll fight every single one of them,” Antoine promises, startling a laugh out of Max. 

“You can’t fight,” Max half-laughs. 

“I haven’t had the proper motivation,” Antoine says darkly. “You’re worth the risk.”

“Thank you, mon caneton,” Max whispers. “Can we talk about something else now?”

“Of course,” Antoine says. “Wanna hear about Sammy trying to sneak Elie onto the bus when Laurence visited?”

“He didn’t,” Max laughs.

“Oh he did,” Antoine laughs as he starts telling Max how his best friend tried to sneak his new puppy with him on their road trip. 

“I’d say I can’t believe that he thought she’d stay quiet in his gear bag or that they’d let him keep the bag on the bus,” Max says, “But it’s Sammy so I totally believe it.”

“We had to wait for Laurence to come get her,” Antoine laughs. “Coach was so mad.”

“I bet,” Max laughs through what sounds like a yawn.

“You should get some sleep,” Antoine says, looking out the window and seeing that it’s started to get dark outside. He knows Max is 4 hours behind him but his husband’s been through a lot in the last 24 hours so he doesn’t care about what time it actually is in Vancouver. 

“I’m fine,” Max says, but Antoine can _ feel _ his yawn this time. 

“Get some sleep please,” Antoine whispers even though he has no desire to hang up the phone. 

“Don’t wanna hang up,” Max whines. 

“Sleep,” Antoine insists. “I love you.”

“Love you,” Max says. “Stay on ‘til I fall asleep?” 

“Of course,” Antoine promises, and before he knows it he can hear Max softly snoring into the speaker lulling himself off to sleep. 

They’ll see each other soon, but Antoine would give anything to be in Max’s bed right now instead of hearing Bo sing in the shower. 

\---

Antoine’s been watching the Drummondville-Sherbrooke series, waiting to find out who Halifax will be facing in the semi-finals, not that he doesn’t already know what the outcome is going to be with Drummondville up 3 games to 1 in Game 5 of the series. Sherbrooke puts up one hell of a fight, taking it to double overtime, but in the end no one can stop Max putting the puck in the back of the net to end it. 

Antoine’s filled with pride watching Max skate past his teammates in the handshake line until it hits him: Drummondville is heading to the semifinals. He’s going up against his husband in the most important series of his career, and it can only end with one of them leaving the QMJHL with a broken heart. 

Antoine’s excited to be going to the semifinals, he really is, and he’s excited to get to sleep in the same bed as his husband, but the two things together might be too much for him to handle. 

All of that changes when he sees Max waiting for him at the airport in Drummondville, and it doesn’t matter that it looks like Max hasn’t slept in days or that Antoine’s weighed down by his gear, Max is the best thing he’s seen in ages. 

“Mon caneton,” Max whispers into Antoine’s curls. 

“I missed you,” Antoine breathes into Max’s neck.

Antoine tries not to be annoyed when Sammy sneaks up behind them and wraps his arms around Antoine’s back so he too is hugging Max, but Max doesn’t hide his feelings nearly as well. 

“Hello Samuel,” Max says. 

“Hello lovebirds,” Sammy replies, a shit-eating grin on his face. 

Sammy’s one of the only ones who actually knows just how deep their relationship goes --- after all, Antoine needed someone to cover for him every time Bathurst played Victoriaville and Max dragged him off to his billet or his hotel. Antoine knows his billets would’ve welcomed Max with open arms, he just figures it’s easier to say that he’s staying over at Sammy’s place than explain that he’s a married teenager. 

“Fuck off Sammy,” Antoine laughs. 

“You kiss your husband with that mouth?” Sammy gasps, both hands coming up to cover his mouth in faux-shock. 

“Excuse me, he’s my overly-committed boyfriend,” Antoine says. 

“Mon caneton, I thought we agreed on long term friends with benefits,” Max says. 

“Oh that’s right,” Antoine agrees, leaning in and giving Max a peck on the cheek. 

“Can you really call each other friends with benefits if you’re not having sex?” Sammy asks, and with anyone else mentioning Antoine’s sexuality would make him feel prickly, but it’s Sammy and Antoine knows he doesn’t mean anything by it. 

Max, however, hasn’t spent the last four years with him and if looks could kill Sammy would be six feet under. 

“Oh, there are lots of benefits,” Antoine’s quick to say, hoping that the way he’s put himself in between his husband and his best friend is somewhat subtle. “Non-stop cuddles over the summer, knowing that he’ll always pick up the phone at 3am, full length mirror selfies if he doesn’t know what to wear, constantly being told that I’m loved-”

“Yeah, ok I get it,” Sammy says, cutting him off. 

“The hospital visits are nice too,” Max says, and Antoine gives his hand a squeeze. That really is the best thing about being legally married, no one could keep Antoine away when Max was out with a separated shoulder after World Juniors, not even Halifax. 

“Married date nights are a lot of fun,” Antoine says, switching to a lighter topic that doesn’t make him want to cry. “There’s really no need to impress, I’ve already won his heart.” 

“Shut up,” Max laughs. 

“Remember the time we almost got kicked out of that Italian place because you wouldn’t stop singing to me?” Antoine asks. 

“It was a serenade for our anniversary, of course I remember it,” Max says. “It’s not my fault the owner didn’t appreciate the beauty.” 

“He wasn’t the only one,” Antoine deadpans. 

“You loved it,” Max says. “And you love me so I win.”

“I do love _ you _,” Antoine says, pulling Max into a hug, not realizing that it’s a trap until Max’s arms tighten around him and his hands move dangerously to where Antoine’s most ticklish. 

“You love my singing too,” Max says, threateningly wiggling his fingers.

“I never said I didn’t,” Antoine says, trying to wriggle out of Max’s arms.

“But you didn’t say that you did, either,” Max says, gently beginning the assault on Antoine’s sides. 

“Fine, fine, I love your singing,” Antoine wheezes, giving in to the tickling. 

“Thank you,” Max says, stopping the tickling but not letting Antoine out of the hug. 

“I’m just...gonna go,” Sammy says, but Antoine’s too caught up in Max’s smile to pay much attention when a camera flash goes off and Sammy runs away giggling. 

“Should we be worried about that?” Max asks. 

“He’s harmless,” Antoine promises. 

“If you say so,” Max says, and Antoine would really like to stop thinking about his best friend when his husband is in his arms.

“Less Sammy, more kisses,” Antoine wines.

“Well what kind of a husband would I be if I didn’t give you what you wanted,” Max laughs, pressing his lips to Antoine’s. 

\---

“We’ll be together soon mon caneton,” Max promises, not letting go of Antoine until a car comes to drive Antoine back to the hotel so he can get ready to report to the Gulls. “Call me when you get to San Diego.”

“I promise,” Antoine says. 

He knows it’s not that far of a drive from San Diego to Anaheim, but Antoine knows that their different schedules aren’t going to make it easy for them to see each other until the holidays. Antoine would give anything to play with Max again, but he knows it’s not going to happen this year since Anaheim would be crazy to send him down with the way he’s been playing. 

They make do with almost-nightly skype calls, falling asleep in front of their laptops after talking about anything and everything they can think of until they can’t keep their eyes open anymore just like they’ve always done, but it still kills Antoine that this is how it still has to be. They’re the closest that they’ve ever been but it’s not enough, it won’t ever be enough until they’re breathing the same air. 

Antoine’s not sure why his phone is ringing at 1 in the morning before a game day, but he’s determined to ignore whoever it is until they give up. 

**Benny**

**I know you’re home, open up**

**Me**

**Hang on**

**Benny**

**I’ve got a surprise for you**

Antoine’s still tempted to see if Simon will go away if he ignores him long enough, but he also doesn’t want neighbors complaining about Simon pounding on the door in the middle of the night, so he trudges out of bed miraculously not tripping on anything in the dark because turning the lights on seems like too much work for his sleep-muddled brain. 

“Knock it off,” Antoine says, opening the door and getting a fist straight to his chin, which should be his fault because he did throw the door open while Simon was mid-knock. “Oof.”

“Shit,” Simon says. 

“What d’you want?” Antoine asks, rubbing his chin before wiping at his blurry eyes.

“I told you,” Simon says. “I have a surprise for you.”

“At 1 in the morning?” Antoine asks. 

“Don’t look at me, it’s not my fault shit happened when it did,” Simon says. 

“What the hell are you talking about?” Antoine asks. 

“You have a new roommate,” Simon says, smiling at him like that explains everything. 

“I’m going back to bed,” Antoine finally says, getting ready to close the door in his friend’s face. 

“Can I come?” a voice from down the hall asks, and surely Antoine’s still sleeping because he knows that voice anywhere and there’s no way that it’s speaker is here now. 

“Max?” Antoine whispers. 

“Hi mon caneton,” Max says, finally showing himself.

“This is the best dream ever,” Antoine says. 

“It’s not a dream,” Max says, wrapping his arms around Antoine.

“How are you here?” Antoine asks.

“They sent me down,” Max says. 

“They’re crazy,” Antoine says. “You’ve been playing on the top line, I’m going to fight them all.” 

“Please don’t fight them mon caneton,” Max says. “It happens.”

“It shouldn’t happen,” Antoine says. “You’re too good to be playing down here.”

“You’re here,” Max says. “And I’m no better than you are.”

“But you are,” Antoine says. “Everybody knows it.”

“No more hockey talk,” Max pleads. “I’m here, you’re here, and that’s all that matters.” 

When they disentangle themselves from each other, Simon’s nowhere to be found, which is probably for the best. Antoine goes to put his phone on silent so they won’t get woken up until they’re ready, which is when he sees another message from Simon. 

**Benny**

**I’ll see you later**

**Have fun**

**Be safe**

“We really should thank him,” Max mutters over Antoine’s shoulder.

“Tomorrow,” Antoine replies before pulling the covers up so they can slide into bed. 

“Tomorrow,” Max says, pressing himself as close as he can to Antoine and shoving one leg in between Antoine’s thighs before pressing soft kisses to the back of his neck. 

“I love you,” Antoine whispers, trying to keep his eyes open so he can keep paying attention to the way Max has started drawing patterns on his hip. 

“I love you too,” Max says. 

Antoine wakes up to an empty bed, but the spot next to him is warm enough to tell him that Max hasn’t been up for long. 

“Oh good,” Max calls out before Antoine even makes it out of the bedroom. “You’re awake.” 

“Why aren’t you still sleeping?” Antoine whines.

“I was gonna wait until you woke up to get out of bed but I thought watching you sleep would be too cliche for us,” Max says. 

“We’ve been married for years,” Antoine says. “Nothing is too cliche for us.” 

“True,” Max says. “But we can save that for tomorrow morning since we have a game tonight.” 

Antoine tries not to shiver at Max saying _ “we” _have a game, but it’s a battle he’s willing to lose with the way Max’s eyes light up when he realizes what he’s said. 

“We’re on the same team,” Antoine says. 

“We are,” Max says, pulling Antoine to him before kissing every inch of his face. 

Antoine’s not going to let the fact that Max being in the AHL is only temporary ruin the moment, but he can’t keep it from popping into his head. 

“I’m gonna go finish making breakfast,” Max says, pressing one last kiss to Antoine’s eyelid.

“When did you learn how to cook?” Antoine asks.

“Joanie’s a really good teacher,” Max answers.

“Oh really?” Antoine asks skeptically. 

“You don’t have to eat the pancakes I’m making if you don’t want to,” Max says, knowing how much Antoine loves pancakes. 

“Pancakes?” 

“Yep,” Max says. “But not if you don’t let me go back to the kitchen.” 

“Go, go, go,” Antoine laughs, gently pushing his husband towards the kitchen. 

“There’s one good thing about this,” Max says over the sound of pancakes sizzling on the stove. 

“Oh?” Antoine asks. 

“We can finally act like husbands!” Max says, giving Antoine just enough time to brace himself before launching himself onto the couch. 

“What does that even mean?” Antoine asks, half-heartedly attempting to dodge the kisses Max peppers all over his face. 

“I have no idea,” Max says giving Antoine one last peck on the nose.

“You don’t know?” Antoine repeats. 

“No,” Max confirms. “But that’s great, isn’t it?”

“Is it?”

“Yes, because that means we get to figure it out together!” Max says. 

If Antoine’s being honest with himself, that scares the shit out of him, but this is Max looking into his eyes with a smile that’s making Antoine’s heart feel like it’s bursting out of his chest, so he knows everything’s going to be ok. 


End file.
